My hand reaches for her face, my thumb trying to brush them away somehow. It doesn’t work—nothing does—and the fucking stain will be imprinted in my mind for as long as I live, no matter how many times she tells me it doesn’t matter anymore.
“I still don’t understand, Nate. I mean, how did you make this happen?”
“Money can make anything happen,” I reply, grabbing hold of her hand and walking us out of the room. “And you’d be surprised how many people owe Cane something.”
She smiles a little, but I can feel her discomfort. She might love me, but she’s far from happy with the life we’re now in again. It’s not her, is it? The violence, the sense of threat. She’s a thief is all—one I’m sure will continue to go about her business as when I tell her it’s safe for her to do so again. Not that that’s coming anytime soon. But this around us now? All this threat that’s coming? It’s not what she wants or deserves, but here we are, both of us in love and trying to find a way through everything my life has to offer. The only thing I’ve damn well got to counter that is my heart, along with the protection that affords her, because I’ll fucking die before I let something happen to her again now.
I would have done in that warehouse.
“Life’s too short to fuck around with,” I mutter, leading us further around corners neither of us know yet.
We wander back through the landing and out to the far staircase, tracking the rooms back down towards the side entrance. My leg gives out a little as we come back out into the sun, steps jarring the fucking thing and reminding me of what happens for love.
“You need to rest,” she says, trying to turn me back into the house. No, I don’t. I need to get on with my life, and so does she now she’s beginning to understand what being part of Cane means. Who the hell knows what’s coming for us in the future? I don’t, and no matter how much I plan or strategize our next moves, ready to defend us at all costs, we could all be dead before we’ve even damn well begun.
“You happy here?” I ask, towing her along with me without another thought of resting.
“Who wouldn’t be?” she replies, still trying to tug my hand back towards the inside of the house and frowning. “But really, Nate. We need to get you inside and out of this heat. I’m assuming this is recuperation time before we go back. Recuperate, will you?”
“We’re not going back.”
I let go of her and keep walking through the grounds to get me back to the terrace, hoping she’ll follow without any more argument. Although, I do enjoy it. The bickering is one of the things I love about her for reasons I haven’t quite worked out yet. They make her defiant, snappy and unpredictable, things all women have been lacking before her.
“What do you mean we’re not going back?” she says, catching up and putting herself in front of me, hands on hips. “When was that part of the plan?”
“When I bought the place for us.”
“What?”
I smirk and duck around her, heading for the steps down to the beach and hoping she follows me there, too. I snort, amused at my hopes as I look up and see Den pacing the top line of the terrace, gun holstered. Follow me? Why would she follow me given what she’s been put through? Let alone deal with the rest of what’s coming. A team of guards around her permanently? A life constantly monitored in case of threat? It’s hardly the dream we had in Bora. But then we’re not those people now, or at least not yet.
I can hope, though.
“I’m thinking you should just do as you’re told, Gabby.”
“I’m thinking you should tell me what the hell is going on,” she snaps, silent feet landing on the beach next to me. “Honestly, Nate, you can’t just spring this on me. We should discuss this.” I stop and turn to her.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why? We don’t need to discuss anything other than the fact that I love you.” She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out as she stands there looking a little lost. “What else is there to know?”
“Well, for a start there’s—”
I walk off again towards the corner of the beach leading to the cove, not interested in anything else she wants to question. There’s nothing as far as I’m concerned. We’re rich, alive and in love. We want for nothing other than each other and the sand beneath our feet, children running with us if I can manage that at some point in the future.
“What about everything you’ve got in Chicago?” she calls. I round the breach of the waves, head shaking at the thought of Chicago as my feet sluice through the water to get me to the one place I want her in. I’m not interested in Chicago at the moment. Quinn will deal with that. The only thing I give one fuck for is hearing her voice and seeing her smile again after some cunt violated her.
My stomach rolls at the thought, hands tightening into fists as I stare out into the water and watch the sun lowering itself. Not one other person will touch her again, ever. Revenge claws through me without a way of expunging itself onto anything. There’s only the Yakuza I can blame, and that’s coming with time, but for now all I have is the hope that she can forget it or forgive me for not stopping it. Either way, it was unacceptable on too many fucking levels for me to rationalize, and now all I have is this time here to show her how fucking sorry I am. Sorry for letting them take her. Sorry for trying to do the decent thing and not have a bloodbath coming for everyone, and damn sorry for not being the one who killed the fucker who did it to her.
“We can’t just stay here forever, Nate,” she says eventually, catching up with me and breaking me of my musings. I turn to look at her, hands in my pockets. We can. We can stay here for as long as I hold Quinn off from starting the ball rolling forward into hell again. He’ll be the one to push the right buttons, start the machine rolling.
But he’ll do it when I’m ready now.
We’ll do it together.
“We can for a while. If you’ll have me, that is.”
